


Mourner of the Man

by Mthaelly



Series: Extracts of One Poem [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: A bit explicit?, First time writing this kind of thing, M/M, dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 19:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mthaelly/pseuds/Mthaelly
Summary: Like two doomed ships that pass in stormWe had crossed each other's way:But we made no sign, we said no word,We had no word to say;For we did not meet in the holy night,But in the shameful day.





	Mourner of the Man

_He lay as one who lies and dreams_  
_In a pleasant meadow-land,_  
_The watcher watched him as he slept,_  
_And could not understand_  
_How one could sleep so sweet a sleep_  
_With a hangman close at hand?_

Loki does not sleep in his cell.

Thor knows because he walks the grim cells every often, everytime he had came back from a victorious campaign. Leading a trail of prisoners, fallen warriors, captured beasts, both. The cells bustle with more prisoners everday as the thunderer works his best to keep the realms in order. One battle then comes another, another; another. The trail of prisoners becomes a long line, squeezed into cells that looks about to overflow. But Thor thinks the Realm Eternal had space to spare and Odin comments none about the horde of prisoners that come back each week or so.  
Loki does not share his cell with others.  
For fear of their lives because not even the Allfather knows when a snake will strike.

And Loki, his not brother, villian; madman is a snake with many heads. Illusions of illusions, flowers made of daggers; voice of poisonous nectar.

Thor passes his cell and a bored Loki would spare a nochalant glance at the new arrivals. Sometimes he turns in troubled not-sleep in his bright cell but never a scream or shout.  
Loki tries sometimes, but Thor can see he does show his failure evidently.

Sometimes he looks to Thor, eyes unreadable, slanting in a lazy line.  
Thor feels naked and puts on a grim frown to his face.

_So serious brother_

Thor could never had spoken more volumes with eyes than Loki. Loki, the Silver-Tongue with green emeralds for eyes that speaks with every flick and roll. Thor passes his cell and feels serpentine eyes gouging on his every step, every breath and every emotion.  
Thor's eyes are blue, colour of a summer sky, evident and free for all to see.  
Loki, Loki's eyes slide and hide behind pale lids and long lashes waiting; alluring.  
Never free, never seen without a price.

Thor pays the price much too often and he feels starved bare.

_And yet here you are, still paying me your dues, mighty thunderer_

Loki flutters his lids and forest green orbs flashes behind inky black lashes.  
Thor passes by.  
  


Loki sleeps beneath the palace, beneath Thor; for that is the place for a criminal, a failed conqueror. Who sleeps beneath his glorious victor.

Loki sleeps, but never truly.

Thor sleeps, hands in his sheets, eyes shut in a pleasant dream; of him sinking down below the floors of the palace, hands in raven hair, sweet.

Thor sleeps and wakes after for dreams are dreams because the truth is he cannot sink into the ground to meet his lips with his.

He courts women with dark hair and sharp eyes; sink himself into them, combing his hands through their soft, black hair.  
Thor sleeps after, hand held tightly around a dream; the woman who he wishes to be his material apparition of a thing he cannot have.

The days drag on.

Jane returns and Thor brings her to Asgard. Spends time to soothe her black her, to listen to her clever quips; to watch the blink of her dark, bottomless eyes.  
Thor sleeps then, hands not so tight around Jane.

Suddenly, the Allmother dies.  
  
  


_If you betray me, I will kill you._

Green eyes flutter, sharp. Dark hair spilling from the shoulders in a sleek curl.

_When do we start?_

Loki dies after, eyes dark and grey.

_Alas! it is a fearful thing_  
_To feel another's guilt!_  
_For, right within, the sword of Sin_  
_Pierced to its poisoned hilt,_  
_And as molten lead were the tears we shed_  
_For the blood we had not spilt._

They were to break out tommorow, but Thor releases Loki from his cell the night before.  
Cuffs still on his hands, they sneek through the darkness of the late night, whisking across the long halls without being seen by wandering guards.

Thor, silent slips into his chambers, Loki in tow; an air of quirkiness hanging around him as he enters the familiar room. The door closes.

There were only the two of them in the room.

Thor can see Loki's brow arch.

"Pray tell where is your little woman?"  
Thor stares ahead, directly at him. Loki 's voice sounds dry yet smooth, does the two coincide?  
" Not here."  
Loki's brows arch futher, dark lashes flutter in mock. Loki's thin form sways.  
" Curious indeed , that your beloved mortal is not here,"  
Thor does not retort. Loki eyes gleams dark as he lights a candle.

" That I am here instead."  
Loki looks the canopy of the ceiling, hands still cuffed and his eyes gleam that emerald green; the green of the forest, the green of a rare jewel.

The green of Loki's eyes.

He sways side to side.  
Thor lights candles no more.  
"Why, why is it so?"  
Thor shifts in the dim light.  
"Because I will it so. Because I'm your captor and you my prisoner."  
Loki smirks a sly smirk. White teeth baring when he laughs.

_Odinson_

Thor grits his teeth. Loki chooses to grin a little longer before he raises his cuffed hands in mock defeat.  
"Care to release my bonds, almighty Thunderer?"  
Loki grins and his eyes crease, framing  his green, bejewelled eyes.

" No."

" Pretty please?"

" Loki, I'm not playing this game with you."

A defiant smirk.

"Entertain me or I shall find amusement myself."

Thor takes a step closer.

Thor grabs his cuffs suddenly and holds Loki's arms up by his wrist; he quietly feels the thiness of it beneath Loki's stark tunic.

" No, little brother."

Loki growls the hiss of the snake, pulling his hands away from Thor's grasp to no avail.  
He glares the jabs of a thousand swords back at Thor and seethes.  
"Release me." He says, dangerously calm.

Thor knows how to deal with danger. He yanks his struggling hands even tighter and holds it higher. Until Loki stands on his toes to stand at Thor height, face dangerously close.

"Release.Me."

Thor can feel the his cool breath on his lips. Sees the pallor of his skin, whiter than marble in the moonlight. His creasing brows and his defiamt eyes, shining with anger; the cling of his stark tunic to every curve of skin.

Loki seethes against him, breating ragged breaths as he squirms and twists in Thor's grip.  
" Unhand me!"

" Unhand me this inst...!"

Thor bends Loki's smaller frame a bit as he touches their lips together and Loki does not get to finish his words.

He gives a muffled grunt as Thor holds his hands, still cuffed above his head, tongue swiping against his teeth. The urge to bite him is cut short as Thor lifts him from the ground just with the grasp of his one arm on his immobile hands and Loki yells in protest into his mouth. Thor slips his tongue in as Loki's leg dangle a bit from the ground. Furious, he lands a kick at Thor's groin. Thor grunts and breaks the kiss, both of them gasping for air. Loki's leg find purchase as it curls around Thor's waist, clinging to steady himself. Thor releases his grasp on his cuffed arms to hold him in place.  
Their breaths mingles with each other's and Thor slips a shy hand into Loki's hair, combing through strands of silk, coarse and rough at the ends.

" Loki."

Loki finds his arms free. He sees Thor slip away the key.  
His places his arms on Thor's broad shoulders and speaks.

"Amuse me, brother."

_All through the night we knelt and prayed,_  
_Mad mourners of a corpse!_  
_The troubled plumes of midnight were_  
_The plumes upon a hearse:_  
_And bitter wine upon a sponge_  
_Was the saviour of Remorse._

Perhaps Loki had known that the stab of a sword through the chest would not have killed the Kursed. Perhaps he had done it out of a childish need or spite, of petty vengeance.Either way, Kursed dies in the end.

Loki does the same.

But Thor had no time to mourn. So his leaves Loki's body behind, a nagging thought chewing at his mind as he strode forth with purpose to end Malekith's life. To avenge Loki.

And when all is said and done. Thor returns home to Asgard with no trail of prisoners in chain behind. For the Dark Elves and Loki were all dead.

Thor retires to his room after the successful pardon and release of The Warriors Three.  
Sif, who checks for injuries on Thor and frets about sharp bruises, barely notices the absence of another who did not survive. Hogun, Fandral, Vostalgg too for they had made merry soon after with ale and feast.  
Thor finds he cannot join them, the kingdom, the people of Asgard in the festivities. Frigga's death still a barely healed bruise.

And Loki's death a festering wound.

When Thor returns to his chamberss, there are still evidence of creases in the now cold sheets. Remnants of their activities last night, when Loki for once in a lifetime yielded his body to him with such grace. Body arching into him, skin flushed and lips swollen. Beautiful, sensitive; his only. If only for that night on their joined coupling, their hips moving in sync followed by a steady flow of pleasured moans.  
Loki, who writhes under him, pale in the moonlight and pupils blown, keening.

Loki who lived but a night ago.

Thor buries himself into the sheets, and tries the feel the warmth, smell the sweat of Loki's skin.

The faint scent of mint and the green gleam of eyes in fetid darkness, wild and hungry.

No more, he thinks. No more.

 _"Oho_ _!"_ they cried, _"The world is wide,_  
_But fettered limbs go lame!_  
_And once, or twice, to throw the dice_  
_Is a gentlemanly game,_  
_But he does not win who plays with Sin_  
_In the secret House of Shame."_  
  


  
  
  



End file.
